Unconditional
by concretya
Summary: Eomer and Eowyn have matured into capable young adults, but they still have their share of issues. It’s simple relationships that keep them sane. Oneshot.


**Unconditional

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**Eomer and Eowyn have matured into capable young adults, but they still have their share of issues. It's simple relationships that keep them sane. Oneshot.

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"_What is the house of Eorl but a thatched barn where brigands drink in the reek, and their brats roll on the floor among the dogs?"_

-Saruman, "The Voice of Saruman," _The Two Towers _

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It was a late afternoon, and the sun seemed almost to rest beside Edoras instead of standing aggressively high in the sky. It was streaming so mightily that the very beams gracing the golden roof of Meduseld could be seen through all the windows, bathing the halls and lighting all the corners. Nobody, though, gave much notice. Few people remained inside in such weather, and those few had other topics on their minds.

A young girl traipsed quietly along the back halls. Her face was smudged, her dress disheveled, and her steps hinted at guilt. But even as she sniffled and tried to refrain from crying, she glanced about in interest. She was peering out through a window that had caught her fancy when one of the hunting dogs, all fur and claws and tail, came up to her and imperiously butted the back of her knees.

"Oh!" she cried softly, and turned to pet it. The animal's tail started wagging, and he pushed his square, intelligent face closer toward hers. She smiled, and then suddenly decided that roaming through the great Hall was tiring and she deserved a rest. So the girl plopped down right next to the wall, and wrapped an arm around her new companion. And quickly she fell into an almost-sleep.

She crouched there long enough for her joints to stiffen and her foot to become numb. When she woke, it was not because she was rested, calmed, and content; a pale man, intending to pass quickly through the corridor, stopped and stared intently at her.

The girl gave him a cursive glance. He had dark hair, not so thick as that of most Rohirrim; and he looked familiar. She did not care so much, though, and instead was caught up in trying to work out what had happened earlier that day.

He would not leave her be. "What are you doing in these halls, child?" he asked, attempting nonchalance. "Surely you have a bed or even straw on which to nap?"

"I was walking and got tired," she said defensively.

"Why were you walking here, then?"

"I wanted to get away from some of the boys."

Grima narrowed his eyes for a moment, before turning to walk away.

"They're so rude, I could scream in their faces! Are all boys like this?"

"All _Rohirric_ boys, certainly," Grima muttered quietly.

"They were taunting me!" the girl said savagely. "Again."

He almost asked how this concerned him, as he had not even been _outside_ today, but he saw an opportunity and took it. "Why were they, ah, 'taunting' you?" He placed no great stock in the child's truthfulness, either- it was most likely oversensitivity. He had realized long ago that dainty personalities could be found even in rough backwater cultures like this.

"I don't know _why_. But they kept talking about all sorts of things I did _years_ ago, and they just wouldn't stop." And suddenly, the conjunction of embarrassing memories and the dog that was still standing over her made her remember something her friend had told her years ago. "Oh!" she said. "This is like the opposite of the story!" She giggled.

Grima stared at her, slightly repulsed by the childish laugh. But he needed to find some cards to hold, and young girls like this one were vulnerable. He tried to make his voice like warm honey. "A story?"

"Yes," she said. The last time she had told someone, one of her boy friends, he had gazed at her with eyes like bowls before laughing guiltily and rushing off to tell _his_ other friends. That boy had been very young, and this man was older and cynical, but surely telling it even to him would give her the same comfortable, satisfied feeling. "Well, it was just a little thing 'bout one time Lord Eomer- you know, the King's nephew- got mad at somebody when he was little, younger than me, and stayed in the stables with the dogs for a week and then barked at somebody who came to fetch him."

Grima frowned slightly, considering. This, then, was the type of rumor that circulated among the youngsters of Edoras? It seemed trivial, and yet… these were the children who would grow up even as Eomund's son gained power. Surely if he twisted their beliefs just a little bit, it would either help him or not change anything at all. And the girl was looking hopefully at him- she would likely tell her friends about this encounter as soon as she ran into them.

"Yes," he finally decided upon saying. "That is a delightful tidbit. But, you know," and Grima lowered his voice, "I must be serious with you. When you grow older, you'll see all the different kinds of people there are, and how they react to rough older boys and strict parents." He allowed himself a crooked smile, but gazed straight at the girl's eyes as if to make her believe what he was saying. "Lord Eomer is a person who gets angry very easily, and his anger makes him do things that are not normal- maybe even a bit insane. Even young children should be proud they are human, and never forget this. So," he briskly held out his hand to her, "I suggest you get on your feet and go outside and play."

The girl was staring at him, enraptured. She took his hand and unsteadily rose to her feet; then she nodded and turned to go.

"Indeed," Grima added, calling out to her back, "If you should run into those boys again, maybe you should consider, ah, talking to them." And Grima knew enough of children to hope the girl would immediately start blabbering on the most interesting- and newest- rumor. Satisfied, he continued down the halls the way he had began.

* * *

Eowyn ran a hand through her hair as she cheerfully tramped down the halls of Meduseld. She had spent a rare afternoon with her female friends, feeling more relaxed than she had in a long while with anyone who was not Eomer or Theodred. And now she could go visit Eomer until supper; he and Theodred should both be back from the hunt.

But even as she happily planned ways to convince her brother to tell her all the gory details, she heard somebody speaking from around the corner. It had an unpleasant note to it, and Eowyn was not surprised when she rounded the corner and saw Grima, son of Galmod, hurrying further towards the back of the Hall. _It's nothing worse than usual,_ she told herself to ward off the feeling of disgust. _Think of the fun you just had_.

And then Eowyn noticed the young girl, marching so intently away from Grima that she almost banged into Eowyn. Eowyn reached out an arm to stop the child from rushing off. "Hold on, there," she said as the girl looked up at her. A sick feeling rose in Eowyn's stomach. What healthy reasons would Grima have to talk to her, alone in the hallways while everybody else was gone? "Why were you talking to Grima?"

"Grima?" the girl repeated, wriggling. Eowyn tightened her grip on the child's middle.

"The man you were talking to. I need to know what he wanted."

The girl finally looked up at Eowyn. "You're Lady Eowyn, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am. What were you two talking about?"

"I told him a rumor and he told me one. Then he left. Can't I leave, too?"

"What kind of rumor did he tell you?" Eowyn insisted, feeling tight nervousness in the throat.

The girl hesitated. She truly did not want to tell Eowyn _either_ of the comments about Eomer. But after a few more seconds of silence, she sighed and answered: "Your brother."

"Eomer?"

"I told him how everyone talks about the time your brother acted like a dog when he was really really little, 'cause I thought it was a cute story, and then he started telling me how some people act mad when they get too angry. Can I go now?"

Eowyn frowned, resisting the urge to curse. "Yes, all right," she said. "I'm sorry I kept you; I didn't mean to be so rough."

"It's okay," said the girl, and rushed off a little faster than was necessary.

Eowyn clenched her fists and gritted her teeth; in clearer moments she may very well have laughed at herself. It was a ridiculous habit of hers, this stereotypical expression of anger. But this was not one of those times where absurd self-criticisms crossed Eowyn's mind.

It was not just that Grima was causing trouble again, no; that was nothing new, and this time was actually not particularly bad in comparison. But why, _why_ did something have to go wrong every time she was content? The feeling of her spirits falling was even worse than the feeling of her heart sitting at rock-bottom.

In one of their deeper and more forthright conversations, Eomer had admitted to her that she sometimes seemed cold and distant- even in his eyes. Never _to_ him, no, but he still noticed it. But no wonder! Today she had been cheerful, high in spirit, when something so foul and distasteful crossed her mind.

She knew it was unreasonable, but she could not shake the image of Grima facing a little girl in a quiet corridor out of her head. Such an act was loathed in the Mark, and yet Eowyn would not put it past Grima. He was a foul creature, and the way his eyes were always watching.. Eowyn shuddered and tried to put this idea out of her mind. The girl had, after all, practically assured her that nothing of that nature had happened.

Luckily for Eowyn, there was some small reason to smile: the story the girl had referred to. It had started out true; oh, how Eowyn remembered that! Or as far as she knew, it was true; and she trusted her source. She herself had been too young to remember, but Theodred had told her once when she was sick and needed consolation. The mischievous glint in his eyes had been a delightful reminder that, at his core, Theodred was really only a playful cousin and not an older, royal relative.

And, while she was on the topic of Theodred, he and Eomer would be home by now. Grima not yet forgotten, Eowyn rushed towards Eomer's room.

* * *

Eowyn swung herself through the door of Eomer's small room mere minutes after he himself had arrived. The young man was lying back on his bed, eyes closed, still in his mud-caked riding boots. "Maybe I shouldn't interrupt," Eowyn said, especially loudly.

Without missing a beat, and without even opening his eyes, Eomer replied "Nay, you shouldn't, but that will never stop you."

"Well?" Eowyn crossed to perch on the edge of his couch. A second later she wished she remembered not to follow through on this old habit; her brother had started sweating a great deal more than he had when they were young, and anyone with a nose could tell. "How was the hunt?"

"Successful." Eomer lifted an arm and waved it in Eowyn's direction, trying to make contact with her back so as to push her off. She merely grabbed his wrist and held it a safe distance away. And then, to spite him, she bounced a little on the bed.

"I want details," she said firmly.

"Later. After supper. And after you tell me how your day was."

"Why do you bother pretending to be modest? I can tell you're just _aching_ to brag about all your kills."

Eomer smiled. Opening his eyes, he sat up and leaned against Eowyn's back. "I ache all over. First tell me what _you_ did all day." He fully expected Eowyn to pester him more; she was not strong on patience and seldom gave in so easily.

But tonight Eowyn had news of her own. "I had an encounter with Grima in the corridors."

She could feel Eomer stiffen slightly, but he attempted to keep his voice casual as he replied. "An encounter of what nature?"

"Well, not a direct one. I merely heard from a young child that Grima was spreading rumours and judgments about you." Eowyn swiveled to face her brother, smiling distractedly when he lost his balance.

"About me? If this means that Wormtongue finally regards me as a thread, really, I'm touched. But maybe it was more like the jealous mischief of a six-year-old?"

"Eomer," Eowyn said, beginning to feel a bit foolish, "do be serious. In any case, I refuse to let you become a- a stern, obsessive warrior, proud of any enemies he happens to make, for several years more at the least. I suppose it was a mixture of both- there was mention of an embarrassing, childish incident you once began, that I don't think he had even heard before, but Gri- Wormtongue seized the opportunity to spread the idea that you are not fully in control of your mind." She finished pompously, crossed her arms over her chest, and stared at him.

"Which 'incident'- oh, lords. Not that one." Eomer narrowed his eyes at her. "I knew I would never escape that story, but I never suspected it would be used as fodder against me."

"Eomer, these children are future soldiers under your command!"

"I am well aware of that," Eomer said quietly, and Eowyn almost winced. His future command, probably as a Marshall, was always a delicate point with her brother.

"I'm probably over-reacting," Eowyn said hastily.

He did not respond right away. Eowyn did indeed have a valid worry, and the ruining of his reputation and future was one of Eomer's greatest concerns. And sometimes- especially right after failed hunts or sword bouts- he _did _worry that his anger would consume him. It was an embarrassing, desperate feeling. But, he decided, gliding his unfocused gaze from the tapestry on the wall to his sister's face, this particular issue could wait- at least until he ran into Grima in private. The fiercest warrior, after all, would put that anger to use.

Eomer smiled wryly and met eyes with his sister. He often noticed how everything to her was either a matter of life and death, or too frivolous to consider for long. She would do well learning how to mix the two. "And how," he asked teasingly, "Did the common populace of Edoras learn of this story?"

He was rewarded with Eowyn's blush. "It wasn't recent, I swear! It was when I was almost as little as you had been. I was angry at you," she muttered. "And I only told one of my friends!"

"Mad at me? Was it one of those many times I beat you in a fight, perhaps? Or-"

"I was angry at you because you didn't let me come along with your friends one afternoon."

"That's _all?_"

"Well, I somehow got it into my head that you hated me because I was a girl."

Eomer laughed. "No, it was more the fact that you were younger. And how you knew all those embarrassing stories about me. I thought I was protecting myself. Obviously, I was mistaken."

"You so often are." And before Eomer could fit in a retort, she continued briskly: "And now, I want details about the hunt."

"You still haven't told me what you did all day here."

"Boring female discussions," Eowyn said cheekily. "_My_ friends would irk you endlessly. That's why I never let you tag along after us, in case you were wondering."

"Thank you for clearing that up," Eomer said. "Your ill treatment of me has plagued my dreams since you were four."

"I figured you were sensitive enough to notice. Now- the hunt."

"Theodred ordered me to let him tell you all the gory particulars," Eomer lied, only partly because he wanted to irk her.

"I don't believe you. He doesn't like recounting it any more than you."

Eomer shrugged.

"But I think I shall visit him anyway, since he is infinitely more entertaining than my dull brother," Eowyn announced, "who is acting rather petty and childish on top of his normal flaws." She stood, and walked laboriously towards the door. Right before stepping down the hall, she turned to look back at Eomer. "But, nevertheless, I look forward to seeing Eomer at dinner and conversing with him there." Eowyn smiled lovingly at him, and flounced away.

Eomer heaved an exaggerated sigh, and fell backwards onto his furs and pillow again. But he could not help smiling.

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**Author's Note: This didn't really take the direction I intended it to go. Oh well.**

**Oh- yeah. I used to have two stories up under a different penname, "purloined identity." When I started this account ages ago, I intended to keep all my LotR fics separate from all the other fandoms. I decided I'm proud of my other fandom work, and want to keep all my stuff on this account. I'm not going to bother transferring those two fics over to this account, though, because they're old and crappy. Maybe someday I'll do a remake. But I only have enough steam to do LotR fics every once in a while- it takes a lot out of me. **

**concretya. **


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